By now you know I love to eat. I'll taste anything, even the floor.
(But it's not so delicious to lick the floor, in case you were wondering. And it tends not to be boobie or yogurt-melt flavored.)
As much as I love eating, there are some things about mealtime that aren't so great.
And by some things, I mean my bib. It's stupid. The good news is that I've figured out how to pull it off. The bad news is that mom does not count this as a notable skill.
In fact, it gets worse. Mom told me tonight I have to wear a bib and if she has to, she'll get one with sleeves and buckles and shackles on it.
I told her what I thought of that idea.